<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Single Word by Mochirimi</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689946">A Single Word</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochirimi/pseuds/Mochirimi'>Mochirimi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Postwickshipping 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword &amp; Shield | Pokemon Sword &amp; Shield Versions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, Day 3, F/M, Feelings Realization, Hopyu, Postwick Week, PostwickShipping, Postwickshipping Week, Unconfessed Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:07:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22689946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochirimi/pseuds/Mochirimi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Feb 11 | Day Three: Sudden/ Slow Realization</p><p>It happened unexpectedly, long before she could give it a name.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hop/Yuuri | Gloria</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Postwickshipping 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629103</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Single Word</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Like the first rain of the season, Gloria fell slowly through every experience and touch, and then all at once, a downpour. When she finally gives it a name, calls it love, admits to herself that she’s been in love with her best friend for far longer than she’d like to admit, she can’t breathe.  And when she finally decides to say the words aloud, to allow herself to say the words, give them voice and presence in the physical world, she can’t hear a single one. </p><p>In retrospect, if she had to blame anything, anyone, for the way she is shot out of the sky, reduced to this vulnerable state, she’d blame everything on those damn glasses. </p><p>The tradition began unexpectedly as she picked up the ropes of her new role as Galar’s reigning champion queen. Between this photoshoot, that commercial, and each exhibition match, Gloria’s hands grew heavy with the duties and responsibilities befitting her position; there was hardly any time to play, to explore the world she’d yet to discover. </p><p>Running off to see Hop was her one reprieve in the little hours she had to spare. Sitting at the lab as he worked, she listened to his latest research discoveries, spin yarns while the pokemon rest and wander freely around the lab. Those were the moments she could let her guard down, put her attention into something effortless-- time with him. </p><p>It’s in those moments she could be herself, joke and jab and observe the world around her without the world's eyes on her. She could be Gloria, she could be a Postwick kid once again. </p><p>But the little moments, the little ways they spent just ounces of free time together changed slowly, gradually before Gloria could even understand the shift, the difference. It was in the way the sun hit him on the good days, how it illuminated the determination, the excitement, and the things that made Hop, <i>Hop</i> in the best light. It was in the smallest, intimate movements, the way his hands could get Zamenta and Zacian to wag their tails with just the smallest chin scratch, the way he taps his pen in thought in an uncoordinated beat. </p><p>It was in these small unconscious moments that her brown eyes lingered on him just moments longer, taking him in. It was in these moments she was reminded that they weren’t Postwick kids anymore. They’d grown up.</p><p>The feeling built up like storm clouds across a clear blue sky. And she no longer knew how to act.</p><p>The tradition began unexpectedly, a habit of taking care of her friend without his request, without him needing to know. In the times she arrived in Postwick later than promised to meet him, she’d find him asleep, glasses on and askew as Zacian mirrors his master and companion in slumber. The image used to make her laugh under her breath as she’d take them off, leaving him to rest after a full day of work and research. </p><p>But then.</p><p>“Glo?” Inches from her face, Hop’s eyes flutter open, his amber eyes still framed in sleep and dreams. </p><p>And she is frozen. His spectacles fixed in her hands, color rising to her warm cheeks. What can she say? What excuse can she come up with?</p><p>“I…” The words don’t come. </p><p>A slow grin spreads across his face, as he rubs his eyes, running a hand through his hair, slapping the color back into his cheeks. His arms begin to rise in an upward stretch, and Gloria finds her legs again, quickly stepping back, his glasses behind her back.</p><p>“I was wondering who’s been removing my glasses when I sleep.” He yawns, and she looks away. “I mean I thought that maybe it was Zacian, or you know, Sonia because she actually has hands, but you know, this kind of makes sense.” </p><p>He glances at her and she can feel his eyes on her as she walks around the lab space. The words come easier now that she isn’t looking directly at him. “Yeah, you know. I figured it’d be best to let you sleep when you can. You’re always running around, after all.” She shrugs.</p><p>Her eyes wander across the books on the shelf. Butterfree flutter in a chaotic dance in the pit of her stomach as her body attunes to his movements, the pushback of his chair from the desk, the rollaway and the liftoff as he stands, and the five steps it takes for Hop to end him right. Behind. Her. </p><p>She forgets to breathe. </p><p>The grip on his glasses tight as his hands wraps around her own. <br/>“This is actually great timing. I was hoping we’d get some alone time tonight; I want to show you something.” </p><p>His words, his touch, causing her to let the glasses go into his awaiting hands. And he chuckles, catching the spectacles in his hands. “Woah, I need these to see, ya know.”</p><p>“Sorry,” she murmurs. “it slipped.” </p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she watches him place the glasses back on his face, glancing at the time on his watch before tugging at her hand, leading her towards the large glass window. Tripping over her own feet, Gloria stumbles to the window with him, his eyes trained on the view outside, her eyes trained on him. </p><p>The sky is lit by the country night stars outside and the biggest moon no city’s could compare. And across the night sky the Butterfree of Postwick dance, waltzing across the night sky in pairs. </p><p>“It’s their time, you know.” He glances down at her. “To court one the one they fancy.”</p><p>Gloria looks away towards the view, watching the Butterfree meet and part on the sway of a breeze, waltzing to some unknown rhythm. </p><p>And the words come. The feeling that’s been building up inside her like rain clouds pour, the word for this feeling pounding against her temple. </p><p>
  <i>Love.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Love.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Love.</i>
</p><p>And all at once Gloria has never felt the need to stay and run away all at once. Because it’s clear. Gloria loves him. She loves Hop.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one was rather short, but I hope you enjoyed it!<br/>So, as a point of clarification, this is the first point in my prompt timeline, <br/>the beginning of all the yearning and pining for both these two dorks. </p><p>I'm still running behind, but thank you for reading along!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>